


Conflicts Within

by Vrishchika



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2019-11-09 04:05:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17994524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vrishchika/pseuds/Vrishchika
Summary: Stiles loved his job. He was good at his job. But he had never encountered a situation like this.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man, I've been wanting to write Sterek for so long, it's not funny that I just now got around to it. Hope you guys like this one. 
> 
> Betaed by my friends silentdescant and fannycub. 
> 
> Have fun and drop some comments if you'd like to!

  **Chapter One**

“Good morning, ducklings!” Stiles walked into the quiet bullpen, his lips curling into an amused grin as everyone groaned, “How’s it hanging?”

 

Everyone sent half-hearted glares in his direction, “Please boss, it’s too early to be this cheerful,” his streetwise, tough as nails Senior Special Agent Emma Tate complained, slumping in her chair tiredly. She perked up when he waved coffee under her nose, “Bless you,” she breathed dramatically, snatching the drink from his hand.

 

Stiles winked at her before passing coffees around to others on his team. They really didn’t have time to just chill but Stiles decided to give his ducklings a few minutes to collect themselves. They needed to be on their A-game and a little break now will probably help later.

 

Stephens and Miller were tense in their seats, their air impatient but steady. They had been handling the case until it grew too big for them and needed an entire investigative team. Stiles knew it was weighing on them, but they had done a good job. More eyes and minds were needed, is all.

 

“Ok!” He clapped his hands sharply, “Wake up, my intrepid warriors! Wicked criminals await! We have streets to clean, justice to serve, murderers to slay. Chop, chop!” Despite his light-hearted tone, everyone straightened and focused on him. “Stephens and Miller have been working on a big doozy. Three murders that didn’t seem connected at first, but now there’s a pattern. We might have more victims so all hands on deck here.” He stood and moved towards the conference room, “Let’s get everyone on the same page, shall we?”

 

That kicked his team into gear and they grabbed their stuff, Tate and her partner Ricci following quickly while Stephens and Miller lingered to collect their laptops and evidence files.

 

“A serial killer?” Tate said with a grim frown, “We haven’t had one of those in quite a while.”

 

“Which is a good thing,” Ricci said as he arranged the whiteboards and cleared out the conference room table. “If this needs a whole ass team, we’ve got trouble.”

 

“Understatement,” Stephens said bluntly as they walked in, “The three murders are spaced by several months, the first one happened in April last year, second around Christmas time, and the third four days ago.” Stiles sat down as Stephens started the brief, “The pattern is random enough that there’s a chance more victims might pop up.”

 

Miller pinned forensic photographs on the board and passed files around. “All victims are different, no clear connection tying them aside from nature of the wounds.” He said as Stiles flipped the file open, “The first victim was found on April 23rd around 8 AM. The ME confirmed the TOD to be somewhere between two to three days prior to the discovery. Male, no identification, appears to be homeless, in his mid-forties, not listed in missing persons. He was found at the murder site, shows no sign of defensive wounds.”

 

Stiles grimaced. Homeless people were some of the easiest to kill and it was difficult to pin down their murderers. They had little connection, and the motive behind their murders was often murky.

 

“The second victim is Alana Sanders,” Miller pinned a picture of a girl who looked to be in her teens. “Just turned twenty and was reported missing eight days before she was found. There are no signs of sexual assault and all evidence suggests it was a quick kill. ME found no signs of defensive wounds. We believe she was killed somewhere else before being transported and dumped. She was found on December 27th last year, ME suspects she was murdered on 24th or 25th.”

 

Stiles frowned at the wounds, peering at both of them closely. The homeless victim had a horrific slash against the back of his neck that went so deep, it exposed the bone. The female victim had a similar cut; raw, jagged, ruining her throat mercilessly.

 

Something pinged at the back of his mind, but he ignored it for the moment and focused on Miller.

 

“The third victim is high-profile,” Stiles’ eyes widened when Miller pinned the picture of Jonathan Dorsey and he let out a string of curses. Miller grimaced in agreement, “Tony-award-winning Broadway celebrity with a hot new television show on Netflix. Prominent LGBTQ+ rights activist with a large social media following.”

 

“Oh _shit._ ” Emma murmured, combing her hand through her hair, “That’s going to create a mess.”

 

Miller nodded, “He was found by an off-duty NYPD officer, thank God. We suspect he was also murdered elsewhere and dumped. No signs of mugging, assault, no defensive wounds, and no indication that this was a crime of passion or prejudice.” Stiles closed his eyes and resisted to curse some more, “If it wasn’t for the wound—”

 

Stiles looked at the wound and nodded. It was the same type of jagged, rough single slash, this time at the left side of the victim’s neck. All victims bled out, all of them had a single rough cut that seemed to have been made sloppily, which meant—

 

“There’s no improvement in skill,” Stiles pointed out. “No escalation. For such a sloppy cut, it looks like the killer nails it every time. Tears through the jugular vein or carotid artery without fail. It doesn’t look like they’re killing for pleasure, which is odd given the nature of the wound.” Stiles was seeing a lot of contradictory things.

 

“Throat cuttings require killers and victims to be at very close proximity, but there are no signs of defensive wounds.” He frowned. “And the killer seems to be approaching victims from different angles, but they always go for the throat. That’s almost—” He stiffened.

 

“Animalistic,” Ricci spoke up for the first time, “Most predators will go for the neck instinctively, regardless of the angle of approach.” He flipped through different pictures as Stiles carefully looked at the wounds. “And animals take no pleasure in killing. They don’t kill for sport so they’ll pick the most efficient route to get it done.”

 

“This is quite efficient,” Stephens said, “but they are treating it as a sport, killing without clear motive and dumping bodies.” Stiles leaned back as his mind whirled. Over the years, he had come to realize human beings could come up with pretty inventive ways of killing. It was never a good idea to assume something supernatural was involved from the get-go, but his instincts were screaming at him.

 

“We can’t assume there’s no clear motive,” Emma pointed out reasonably, “we just haven’t found it. These things only seem obvious in hindsight.” Well, she wasn’t wrong.

 

As his team bounced ideas off each other, Stiles read the ME’s report carefully. There were no traces of alien skin or claw fragments in the cuts, but that didn’t mean anything. Sometimes forensic didn’t pick up traces left behind by supernatural creatures in their beta form. He’ll have to get some additional tests done just to eliminate a supernatural cause. Stiles _had_ to get that out of the way if he wanted to go anywhere with the case.

 

“Boss,” Stiles looked up, “We just got some CCTV footage.” He gestured towards the screen and leaned forward as Stephens loaded the video. The best part of living in a city like New York was that security cameras were—

 

_Oh fuck._

 

Stiles locked his jaw as he saw a hunched figure stagger into the screen, his movements jerky and stiff. The video was blurry, thanks to the CCTV camera quality and heavy rain, but the figure was clearly carrying a body on his shoulder.

 

“The techs couldn’t clear this up more?” Stiles asked as he took control of the video and replayed it, pausing at certain sections to get a clear read.

 

“Nope,” Miller said and he appeared a little frustrated because of it, “I can’t get a clear read on the suspect’s body language and his posture makes it difficult to gauge his height.”

 

“I reckon he’s around six feet,” Emma studied the paused video intently, “He’s wearing a leather jacket and jeans, nothing fancy but they don’t look worn. I can’t see any weapon that might cause the wound on their person.”

 

“That thick jacket probably hides a lot and the visibility is shoddy to begin with.” Stiles grimaced before slowing down the video speed to watch it more closely. Something about the way the suspect walked struck him as familiar. “Do we have any witnesses?”

 

“No,” Stephens replied promptly, “the suspect has been able to avoid everyone. I’m actually surprised he hasn’t appeared on more security cameras.” He sighed. “At least we know it’s not some freaky animal attack.”

 

_‘Small comfort,’_ Stiles thought to himself, rewinding the tape again, ‘ _If this turns out to be supernatural, I have no idea how to deal with it._ ’ Stiles had chosen New York as his base because he wanted to avoid all supernatural activity. Creatures avoided large, heavily-populated, and active cities like plague. No pack claimed territories in New York, no witches made their covens here, and no vampires lingered in the shadows.

 

But Stiles knew better than to take that for granted.

 

He had a brief flashback of Derek slashing Peter’s throat all those years ago but shook the thought away.

 

Now wasn’t the time.

 

“Ok,” He clapped his hands to gain their attention, “Let’s go over every piece of evidence today. Note down any detail that stands out, no matter how insignificant or ridiculous it seems.” Stiles gestured at the screen, “Miller, Tate, I want you to analyze the video frame by frame until your eyes bleed. Pull every spec of information you can from it.” The two nodded sharply. “Ricci, go through witness statements of people who first discovered the bodies. A fresh set of eyes might help. Stephens, with me, we’re talking to the forensics geeks.”

 

\----

 

“Coffee, black, as dark and strong as you can make it, please, I need something to keep my brain firing on all cylinders.” Stiles murmured to the barista, “And what’s good to eat?”

 

“For you, Agent Stiles? Bacon egg croissant sandwich. I’ll even throw in a freshly baked muffin, if you have room in that six pack of yours.” Stiles laughed at the barista’s wink.

 

“Thanks, Jess, you’re always so good to me.” Jess’ harmless flirting was often the highlight of his day during difficult cases. “How’s school going?”

 

“Same old.” She waved as she ran his card. “Sucking my soul and giving me nightmares.”

 

“Liar, you love it.” Stiles knew Jess was a student at John Jay College of Criminal Justice. She nearly fangirled when she found out Stiles was a Senior Special Agent. “Well, hang in there.” He plucked his card from her fingers and asked, “Try out for an internship with us this summer?”

 

“That would be a dream, honestly.” She grinned, “Have a seat, I’ll have your coffee and breakfast ready for you in a minute.”

 

Stiles was heading for his regular seat when he noticed a familiar form enter through the door, casually as you please with his attention focused on his phone.

 

“ _Fucking hell,_ ” Stiles snarled under his breath, immediately drawing the attention of those intense eyes.

 

Derek froze by the door and took a step back. The expression was startled, but it quickly morphed into something akin to panic before smoothing out. When Derek made a move to turn around, Stiles ducked his head and bit out a warning in a low, almost indiscernible voice, “You run and I’ll chase you with my gun drawn. I will not hesitate to shoot.”

 

If Derek noticed the tell-tale skip of his heartbeat, he didn’t acknowledge it. Stiles kept his gaze focused on the man until Derek visibly gave up and walked forward, sitting down on the seat across from him.

 

“What the fuck are you doing in my city?”

 

Derek scowled at him, “You own New York now?” He shook his head before Stiles could reply with something biting and sarcastic. “I’m just looking for a job and a place to live, Stiles.”

 

“Like hell I’m gonna believe that,” Stiles snapped. “We have a serial killer clawing people’s throats out and you just walk into my city to look for a job at the same time? Am I supposed to believe this is some shitty coincidence?” Derek grimaced but didn’t look surprised, which made Stiles’ heart sink to his stomach. “What the fuck are you chasing?”

 

“I’m not chasing anything,” Derek denied immediately, “just heard about the murders from some of my old contacts here.”

 

“So what? You decided to stay and investigate?” Stiles demanded.

 

Derek shook his head, “I’m not you. I don’t go around poking my nose into someone else’s business.”

 

“ _Someone else’s business?_ ” Stiles practically snarled, struggling to keep his voice low. “Three murders aren’t _someone else’s business!_ Tell me what you know! What do your connections have on this?”

 

Derek looked at him incredulously, “I’m not going to reveal my sources to a Fed.” He shook his head, “It’s best if you stay off this, Stiles.”

 

“I’m the fucking lead agent on this case, wolfboy,” Stiles said, looking at the werewolf in disbelief.

 

Derek shrugged, “I’m sure you can come up with ways to cover it up. You’ve done that bef—” The wolf fell silent, watching Stiles warily and with good reason.

 

Stiles was angry. Incandescently, powerfully angry.

 

“I’m letting that pass,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “because last time you saw me, I was barely 20 and neck deep in supernatural bullshit. Next time you ask me to cover up a murder, I _will_ shoot you.”

 

“Stiles...”

 

Stiles waved his hand sharply, “If you take one step out of line or interfere with my investigation to protect your murderous wolf buddies, you’ll find yourself in a cell lined with mountain ash.” Derek stilled, probably noticing his steady heartbeat.

 

Stiles was serious.

 

Derek fingers curled into a fist. “Haven’t changed a lot, have you? Still doing whatever the hell you want, damn the consequences.” Stiles observed him narrowly. “How are you gonna arrest and keep a feral under control?”

 

“So it’s a feral,” Stiles said absently, his lips twitching when Derek winced, “I have my ways.”

 

“You’ll kill him.” Derek observed blankly.

 

Stiles stood and buttoned his crisp suit carefully, his gaze intent on Derek. “If I have to. If that’s what it takes to protect human lives under my care.” He narrowed his eyes warningly. “Stay away from my case or you won’t like the consequences, Derek.”

 

Derek was silent as Stiles grabbed his coffee and breakfast.

 

“I was wrong,” Derek said finally and Stiles looked at him from over his shoulder. “You have changed.”

 

Something in Derek’s tone told Stiles he didn’t find the change entirely pleasant. He scoffed and took a sip of his coffee as they walked out, “No Derek, I haven’t changed at all and you’ll recognize that soon enough.” He handed the werewolf his card, “It will be safer for everyone involved if you pass all relevant information on to me.”

 

Derek looked at him in distrust. Stiles just rolled his eyes, “Let go of that gloom and doom for a moment and _think_.” He stepped into Derek’s space, just as boldly and fearlessly as he used to, “I will protect supernatural beings as long as they keep their shit together and don’t kill humans. The moment they cross that line, there’s a problem. When I find a problem, I shut it down. Maybe you should remember that, Sourwolf.”

 

“I’m not involved.” Derek said before Stiles could get out of hearing range, “I’m just here to find a job and live my life.”

 

Stiles glanced over his shoulder before nodding, “I have no problem with that.” He waved and walked away, “Stay in your lane and let me know if you hear something. Do that and you’re golden.”

 

He didn’t wait for Derek to reply before getting into his car and driving away.

 

The farther away he stayed from the man, the better.

 

Stiles didn’t want to get sucked into that hole again.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter! Shoutout to my wonderful friend and beta silentdescant for reading through and correcting my mistakes!
> 
> Hope you guys like this!

**Chapter 2**

 

Stiles held back a wince as he read the report, “Damn it,” He shook his head, “They haven’t connected this to the previous murders, have they?”

 

“Not yet, no.” The press liaison Natalie Rhine said with a sigh, “But the internet sleuths will find us out eventually Stiles. I’ll do all I can to keep them off your back but we might have to make a few press calls eventually.”

 

“Stilinski, is there any chance we’ll have some answers soon?” Unit Chief Carter asked, “I know you just got the case but I was hoping fresh eyes would yield something.”

 

Stiles closed his eyes, trying to come up with a satisfactory reply. The suspect’s supernatural origin and feral nature was a _big_ piece of evidence. “I don’t know, sir. We’re dealing with someone… _unconventional_.”

 

“What do you mean?” Carter leveled a serious look at Stiles. Unit Chief had worked with Stiles on enough cases to know he made from intuitive leaps that just clicked without any rhyme or reason. “Walk me through your thought process.”

 

Stiles leaned back as he collected his thoughts, trying to be honest without revealing too much. It still rankled to hide things from his boss but there was no reasonable way he could expose the supernatural world to the government.

 

“All kills are quick and precise, but the wounds are raw and jagged.” Stiles said, “This man isn’t killing for pleasure… it almost seems like he’s killing as a _reaction_ .” ‘ _Like a feral supernatural creature startled by an unexpected encounter._ ’ Stiles thought to himself.

 

“The killing itself seems swift and unplanned, but what happens after the murders is planned.” ‘ _Either there’s someone cleaning up after the feral, maybe a hunter, or the feral isn’t completely feral but has episodes._ ’ Stiles really needed to keep separate notes for all information related to supernatural. The suspect they caught on the camera was clearly involved, but Stiles wasn’t entirely certain he was the feral.

 

He focused his attention before the silence stretched for too long, “The suspect is covering his tracks well; avoiding most security cameras, avoiding witnesses, and leaving behind no traces of his presence. We haven’t found a single hair on the victims’ bodies.” Which was an extraordinary feat, given how hairy lycanthropes were in their feral beta forms.

 

“What about their video clip?” Carter asked with a frowned, “Did we get something from that?”

 

“Miller and Tate haven’t finished their video analysis yet,” Stiles said, “But the suspect’s body language stood out to us almost immediately. At first, we thought it was because of the weight he was carrying over his shoulder, but the twitchy, frantic movements suggest something else.” Stiles said leadingly. Drugs was the closest explanation he could give for feral behavior and it fit the pattern of evidence, not perfectly, but well-enough. He wanted his team to pursue a suspect that displayed irrational behavior because looking for a refined killer motivated by a specific cause will lead them nowhere.

 

“Drugs.” Carter caught on quickly and Stiles shrugged, “Well, at least we have something.”

 

“What do you want me to tell the press about Dorsey’s murder?” Natalie asked when there was a clear break in the conversation, “I’m assuming you don’t want drugs bit leaking to the press?”

 

“We don’t have proof of anything.” Stiles admitted, “And I don’t want to spook the dealers in the city. Might compromise active investigations into them.” Carter nodded in agreement, “Tell them the case is still under investigation and we’re still looking at all avenues.”

 

“Do you want to deny hate crime?” Natalie started taking down notes in her binder, “That’s trending on Twitter.”

 

Stiles groaned and slumped his seat, “No, no, don’t deny hate crime outright. They’ll turn on us if they suspect we’re not exploring that angle thoroughly. Right now, we have no reason to believe the suspect knew the victims. This doesn’t seem like a crime of passion, regardless of the crude nature of the wound.” He rubbed his face tiredly, mind whirling in different directions, “Tell them we haven’t eliminated that as motive.”

 

“Good idea,” Natalie agreed, making her note in her binder.

 

“Alright, if there’s nothing else to discuss, you two get back to work. Stilinski, keep me updated.”

 

“Got it, big boss.” Stiles saluted cheekly, immediately lightening the mood. Natalie smiled and Carter huffed in amusement before dismissing them with a wave.

 

“So your weekend plans are dashed, huh?” Natalie said sympathetically as they walked out of the chief’s office, “Didn’t you plan to go surfing at Montauk?”

 

“Are you kidding? I now have a legitimate excuse to get out of it.” At Natalie’s questioning look, Stiles waved his hand, “Emma has been nagging me to surf with her for ages, even though she _knows_ I’ve never been on a board, _ever_. This is all her secret plan to drown me, make it look like an accident, and take over as the boss of the realm.”

 

“Really Boss, your absolute distrust of me is heartening. I love keeping you on your toes.” Emma drawled as she came up behind them, “And I thank you not to ruin my good reputation in front of Natalie.”

 

Stiles laughed, “What good reputation?”

 

Emma ignored him, “ _Hey_ Natalie,” Her grin was almost obscene, “You can come join us too. We can get to know each other _much_ better while Stiles and my brother goof around and be _boys_.”

 

Natalie’s controlled her expression carefully but Stiles could see the spark of amusement in her eyes, “I know you well enough, Tate.” She replied, “And no,” She said before Emma could open her mouth, “I still have a girlfriend, much to your displeasure, I’m sure. She’s still tragically alive and I’m still hopelessly in love with the daughter of Satan.”

 

Stiles grinned as Natalie pointedly turned around to walk away. Emma sighed after her tragically and he bit back a laugh. Never a dull moment with these two. “Come on, Casanova, we have work to do.”

 

Emma followed him, “At least Casanova was able to bring women to his bed, I fail epically at that.”

 

Stiles chuckled but his smile melted away as soon as they entered their section of the bullpen. Stephens and Miller were scowling while Ricci was studying a file intensely. Their body language didn’t spell good news. “What happened?”

 

Stephens looked up and grimaced, “We found another one.”

 

“Fresh kill?” Emma demanded, immediately catching on. Stiles’ mind whirled as Stephens confirmed it.

 

“That’s a sharp escalation,” Stiles observed with a sinking feeling in his gut, “Something triggered it or the pattern has changed.” He snatched his coat off his chair and shrugged it on stiffly, “Victim?”

 

“24-year old male, Jermaine Collins. Student at NYU and worked at H&M,” Miller informed as they grabbed their gear and rushed towards the parking lot, “NYPD has cordoned off the crime scene and cleared the surrounding area.”

 

Stiles called Carter as they got into their SUV, “Sir, we have another victim. I’m jumping on it, we might have witnesses. This was in broad daylight.”

 

“ _Ok, get to it and keep me apprised of the situation._ ” Carter instructed, “ _I’ll inform Natalie. Standard protocol for press._ ”

 

“Got it, sir.” Stiles hung up and turned to Emma. “How much farther?”

 

“We’ll be there in 15.” He nodded and gestured to Miller to continue with this report.

 

“A dog walker found the body at approximately 8:20 this morning. She saw a ‘ _tall, suspicious-looking man stumble around the corner._ ’ The descriptions seem to match our guy on the CCTV footage, but we’ll have to take that with a grain of salt. The lady didn’t see much. Apparently, the dogs were actively trying to pull her away from the place.”

 

Stiles bit back a curse at that. Animals, especially dogs, sensed lycanthropes easily. They probably saved the girl’s life and scared the feral away. He wondered if the K9 unit would be able to track the wolf, but he needed to research that first. The last thing he wanted was to trigger the feral’s hunting instinct. That might turn the tables on them.

 

Miller was just wrapping up his report when they reached the crime scene. Stiles grimaced at the small group of reporters standing just outside the police line. He looked at Emma and gestured towards them pointedly. Out of all of them, Emma was the best with press at crime scenes. Stiles just ended up revealing more than he intended to and that always led to a messy situation.

 

Emma took note of the silent command and headed off in their direction immediately. Stiles walked towards the OIC as Stephens headed towards the forensics team. Miller and Ricci focused on removing all their equipment from the SUV.

 

“Mike,” Stiles greeted with a grim smile, “Looks messy, huh?”

 

“Sure does, kiddo,” the old officer said as they both turned to look at the body at the distance, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say some wild animal escaped the zoo to attack him. You got a big one on your hands, kid. A career making case, I reckon.” Stiles smiled faintly at that. Mike Garza hadn’t been impressed with Stiles when they first met, but he quickly warmed up to the hyperactive and hyper focused son of a small-town sheriff. It made life much easier for Stiles when they needed to work on cases with the PD.

 

Stiles took the file Mike gave him and flipped through the pages quickly. It included all information of witnesses, reports of the first responders, and even Mike’s own observations. He nodded in gratitude before ducking under the police tape. Stiles put on his gloves absently as he observed the scene from a distance. The forensics team was already present and they were sitting up a tent over the entire area to protect evidence.

 

“We have shoeprints,” Ricci turned his laptop around so Stiles could see the live feed from the crime scene. “Agent from ERT is making a cast of them, says it’s a size 11, the victim’s is a size 9.5. We can tentatively place the height of the suspect between 6 ft to 6 ft 4 inches, unless he’s a short guy with big feet.” Stiles nodded and followed his teammate to the temporary work area set up near the crime scene. Stiles only went near the body after crime scene geeks had finished processing it. He learned early on that any movement in the area could compromise evidence.

 

Stephens and Miller were already fully clad in tyvek suits, double gloves, booties, and masks, ready to join the fray.

 

“First pictures are here.” Stiles sat down beside Ricci and gazed at the pictures of the body, “This one is definitely different.”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles murmured absently, zooming in on the claw marks, “We have defensive wounds.” They were scattered along the victim’s forearms, face, and chest. There were clear, brutal slashes on the victim’s neck. “This doesn’t look like a single wound like the others,” Stiles observed as he took the earpiece from Ricci and plugged it into his ear. “Stephens, get a couple of close shots of the neck for me.”

 

“ _Got it, boss._ ”

 

“This is the kill site,” Stiles observed, looking at the uprooted grass, scuff marks, disturbed rocks, and other clear signs of struggle. “The entire vibe of this scene is off, very different from the others.”

 

Ricci nodded. “The suspect was spooked.”

 

“Well, this might give us some leads.” Stiles said, peering at the video feed intently. “Ricci, look out for any suspicious faces in the crowd.” He gestured towards the audience beyond the police line. “If the suspect is worried, he might show up to check.” Stiles didn’t really believe a feral would have enough sanity to actually follow up on the crime to check if law enforcement was on to him.  

 

Collecting evidence was such a meticulous and time consuming process that Stiles spent most of his workday just supervising that. They had to wrangle the press, prevent leaks, make sure the body was processed properly, do an area sweep, collect all CCTV footage from nearby locations, and so on.

 

By the time Stiles was done for the day, he was exhausted to his bones. Most of his team had spent their time on their feet under the sun and no one was in the position to analyze the evidence collected.

 

Stiles clapped his hands to get the attention of his team. “Okay, we need some rest and hydration before we even attempt to tackle this unholy mess. Let’s scram, but I want you guys here,” he looked at his watch and groaned. “Fuck it’s already 9:20 PM.” Stiles shook his head. “8AM sharp, tomorrow morning sharp. Sorry ducklings, I can’t do better than that.”

 

No one looked happy but they all understood. They were lucky Stiles wasn’t the kind of boss to keep going even when everyone was tired. It took a couple of close calls and a case nearly being thrown out of court because of poor investigative practices for Stiles to realize pulling all-nighters didn’t help anyone, much less the victims involved.

 

Emma was the only one who lingered until Stiles wrapped up all the paperwork for the day. He arched a brow at her. “You look dead on your feet, Em, why are you here?”

 

“To make sure _you_ leave at a decent time.” Emma crossed her arms and frowned at him sternly. “It’s nearly 10:30, fuck what’s pending and come on. We should head home.” Stiles glanced at his computer screen and sighed before nodding.  

 

It was nearly eleven by the time Stiles and Emma logged off, collected their things, and left the building. Stiles briefly considered suggesting grabbing some dinner together, but it was so late and both of them were so tired, heading directly to sleep seemed like a much better option.

 

The hair on the back of his head stood on edge as soon as they entered the garage for their cars. Stiles had spent majority of his youth being chased by deadly supernatural creatures and most of his adulthood pursuing dangerous criminals. His instincts were finely honed.

 

Someone was watching them.

 

“I think the exhaustion and the lack of food is getting to me, ” Stiles said jokingly to Emma as he walked her to her car. “I feel like I’m having an anxiety attack.” It wasn’t a good excuse, but if there was a supernatural killer watching them, it would explain his spiky, erratic heartbeat.

 

Emma, bless her, just lent more credence to his excuse. “You haven’t had one of those in a while, Boss. Do you want me to drive you home?”

 

“Nah,” Stiles said, taking deep breaths to calm himself a little. Years of practice allowed him to wrangle his instinctive panic and focus his mind. He slipped into his car as soon as Emma was in hers and out of the garage. Without lingering to find out who was watching him, Stiles drove off.

 

As soon as he had some distance, he let out a careful breath, “Fuck.” Stiles didn’t think he was being paranoid but even if he was, it was better safe than sorry. The predator/prey instinct was deeply ingrained in him and his body reacted quickly to danger. It was best if he took some precautions.

 

He quickly cast his mind back to determine if he had any supplies with him. Years without significant supernatural activity had made him complacent. He didn’t have any wolfsbane bullets on him, that was for certain. Stiles clearly recalled lining his apartment with Mountain Ash, but he had no idea how effective it was now.

 

He needed to restock.

 

Stiles cursed himself for his lack of foresight before fetching his phone. When he stopped at an intersection, he called a number he had never used since he got to New York, but kept with him in case of emergencies.

 

“ _Stiles, what’s wrong?_ ” Chris’ greeting was short and to the point, and Stiles appreciated it. Still, he couldn’t resist the urge to lighten the tone a little.

 

“What? Can’t I call my favorite badass hunter when I feel like it?” Stiles asked even as his mind raced to find a good way to make his request. He had kept his professional and past personal life firmly separate because he was certain some individuals probably had criminal records. Asking Chris for supplies is probably a good idea, but it still rattled the cop in him.

 

“ _Stiles, it’s probably near 11 there._ ” Chris replied bluntly, “ _And that case is big enough to make national news. It’s got people in the hunter community rattled._ ”

 

Stiles cursed under his breath. “Is anyone heading my way?” he asked in a low, tense voice. He didn’t need hunters trampling all over his case and causing problems. It was bad enough that Derek was here.

 

 _“No,_ ” Chris assured. “ _You being on the case changes things._ ”

 

Stiles arched a brow at that as he took a turn on the road. He chose crowded, busy streets to make sure the feral would have a tough time following him. “I didn’t know I was that well-known in the community.” He had left that world behind a long time ago, after all.

 

“ _The supernatural community doesn’t forget things easily, Stiles,_ ” Chris informed him seriously, “ _You’re_ _in-the-know_ _and have the skills needed to handle it. The city is considered your territory, so to speak. Of course, some hunters won’t hesitate to forgo etiquette. It’s best if you fix things quickly_.”

 

“Great, no pressure,” Stiles murmured sarcastically and decided to just get to the point. “I need ammo and supplies. I don’t have anything on me and I suspect a feral is on my tail. Do you have any connections around here who can hook me up?”

 

Chris’ tone changed immediately. “ _Not in the city itself, but if you’re willing to make a trip to Maplewood in Jersey, I have someone you can trust there. They can give you everything from ammo to Mountain Ash. I’ll let them know; how much do you need?_ ”

 

That was inconvenient, but doable. “Enough to tide me over for a month at least.” Stiles ran over the numbers carefully. “I’ll need a _lot_ of Mountain Ash. Will they have ammo for Glock 17M or a Sig P226?”

 

Chris hummed, “ _Probably for the Sig, but I don’t know about the Glock. It’s new, hasn’t been in hunter circles for long._ ”

 

“Okay.” He’ll just have to remember to reach for his backup Sig instead of his Glock if he was confronted by a creature. “Have any recommendations for me?”

 

Chris was silent for a while, probably surprised by Stiles’ blunt request. “ _Carry a wolfsbane knife_ ,” he said finally. “ _Do you know what kind of creature it is?_ ”

 

Stiles scoffed, “All we have is weird claw-like marks and some blurry CCTV footage. We found very little trace evidence so far. We’ll see what comes up in the next few days.” He kept the information as vague as possible.

 

“ _Stiles… why did you say it was a feral then?”_

 

He stilled for a moment, a frown settling on his brows. When Chris’ words registered, Stiles felt like slapping himself.

 _Why_ was he just going with the assumption they were dealing with a feral? Derek might have hinted at it, but there was practically no solid evidence to validate the suspicion. Stiles didn’t even have clear evidence that something supernatural was involved. Yes, the wounds looked very animalistic, but humans could be very creative killers too.

 

Even if the killer wasn’t human, it was entirely possible he _wasn’t_ feral. Stiles couldn’t afford to get caught in a loop of confirmation bias, not with a case this serious.

 

“Fuck,” Stiles rubbed his face as he got on the road that lead to his building, “Damn it, I’m losing my sight on this case. It was just something Derek mentioned when he showed up out of nowhere in my city.”

 

“ _Ah_...”

 

Stiles froze, “Ah? I don’t like that ‘ _ah_ ’. That’s a very suspicious ‘ah’.” When Chris was silent, Stiles nearly snarled, “What do you know? About him being in New York?”

 

“ _Come on, Stiles_ ,” Chris replied, his tone patient, “ _you don’t really think that Derek of all people would let you face an unknown supernatural threat alone, without pack protection?_ ”

 

He scoffed, “Derek’s not here for me. I heard that straight from the horse’s mouth. He’s just here to look for a job and a place to settle down.”

 

“ _And you believed him?_ ” Chris asked in amusement. “ _You believed Derek, with his supernatural senses, couldn’t avoid you in a big city like New York?_ ”

 

Stiles raised a sceptical brow, “Derek is anything but subtle or cunning, Chris.”

 

The hunter snorted. “ _If he has to outsmart_ _you_ _, he’ll pull every trick in the book to get ahead. Don’t forget this man knows you better than most, Stiles_.” Chris sounded serious as he said, “ _And let’s be honest, you have always underestimated him._ ”

 

“For good reason,” Stiles said dryly. “Given his long line of murderous girlfriends and astonishing lack of acceptable communication habits, can you blame me?”

 

Chris chuckled and Stiles smiled faintly in response. It was good to hear from one of his older mentors and friends. He didn’t speak to people other than his father, Scott, Lydia, and Melissa often, but he missed the others sometimes. “ _Ever think that letting you underestimate him is his only defence against you?”_

 

Stiles froze for a second and groaned, “Sonofabitch.”

 

Chris chuckled again, “ _I’ll make the arrangements with the suppliers and see if I can get things delivered you,”_ he said. “ _Stay on your toes, boy.”_

 

“Yes, sir,” Stiles replied cheekily as he drove the car into his garage and quickly closed the door behind him. He hung up and looked at the closed garage door for a moment before heading for his apartment. He didn’t think anyone could’ve followed him to his apartment, not with the way he drove, but it was better safe than sorry.

 

Despite his exhaustion, Stiles spent at least a couple of hours lining all doors, windows, and entrances with his old supply of Mountain Ash before collapsing on his bed.

 

It would have to do for now.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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